


Just Hospitality

by TernTuesday



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/F, Nudity, Rare Pairings, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29049021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TernTuesday/pseuds/TernTuesday
Summary: The knights of the Order of the Watchful Eye are supposed to refuse any form of luxury. But if the countess offers, it would be rude to refuse, right?
Relationships: Brigitte Lindholm/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Kudos: 16





	Just Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> An artist on twitter is to blame for this pairing. My own bad taste is to blame for the writing style.

The door creaks a bit as the countess opens it, candle holder in hand. It makes Brigitte rather uncomfortable, first having caused the disturbance at the chateau at this hour, then finding out that the widowed countess took it on herself to make sure all the accomodations bestowed upon her as a warrior from the Order of the Watchful Eye are provided.

"I am really sorry, you did not have to go through so much trouble, milady," Brigitte tries again, to no avail. After the long journey, she admittedly had looked forward to sleeping in a bed again, having access to food other than travel rations, and in general being able to rest safely with four sturdy walls and a roof over her head. She didn't expect the countess to go above and beyond her obligation to the Order, allowing Brigitte to dine with her, and now even having prepared a bath.

Admittedly, the thought of being able to clean off the grime and sweat off the road sounds heavenly, for all the guilt Brigitte feels. 

"It is no bother, knight. I am grateful for the protection the Order grants us. As you can imagine, this far in the forest, it is very dangerous." The countess glides through the room, lighting candles as Brigitte follows. "Having your protection is a boon, and I shall gladly offer you everything you ask for."

The chamber is moderately sized, larger for sure than the dwellings Brigitte is used to, and she doesn't have to share it. There's a variety of fancy furniture, and, most importantly, a bed with a huge, soft-looking pillow and covers. While most of her superiors taught her to shun luxury and unneccessary comforts, Reinhardt told her to take what relaxation she can get. There'll be enough nights for sleeping outside in the rain to come.

"You can use this chest for your weapons and tools. The armoire contains a variety of clothing for guests. I'm sure you will find something to wear until the servants can wash yours." The countess turns to Brigitte, offering her the candle holder. "I'll leave you to unpack. Once you are done, your bath will await you two doors down the hall. Sleep well, knight." 

"Good night, milady."

With a tired smile, the countess leaves Brigitte and closes the door behind her. 

~#~

It has been months since Brigitte had a proper soak like this, so she takes her time. It's pleasantly hot, not like bathing in a river, and it's much more enjoyable than a sponge bath late at night, exhausted and muscles aching. Here, she can just lie back, enjoy the scent of the slightly perfumed water, close her eyes and let her thoughts drift.

The countess is young and beautiful, and it surprised Brigitte to learn that she lived alone, only with her servants. During dinner, she mentioned having lost her husband, but it seemed a tense topic, so they dropped it. The countess does look very despondent, her skin is paler than looks healthy. Then again, maybe Brigitte is just behind the times on aristocratic beauty standards. Still, Brigitte hopes that her efforts to help the countess and her people might have a positive impact on her mood.

Brigitte also did not learn anything about the missing doctor. According to the countess, Dr. Ziegler never arrived at her chateau. It seems tomorrow, she will have to take her investigation to the nearby village. 

She sighs and sinks back in the water until its up to her chin. Her hair is gonna take some more work later. 

Minutes go by as she just enjoys the warmth, watching the lazy flicker of the candlelight.

A knock on the door stirs her from her rest.

Maybe the countess send a servant to look after her?

"Come in," Brigitte calls. She hides her chest with an arm, less out of shame than for reasons of modesty. 

Instead of a servant, it's the countess who enters. She is wearing just her nightgown, a thin white layer almost like a shroud, and judging from the darkness of the corridor, she did not bring a candle.

"Oh, countess, is there a problem?" Brigitte sits up, conscious of her enjoyment. She hopes the countess does not think her lazy. 

The countess smiles her thin smile again. "No, nothing is wrong. I simply remembered you had such beautiful hair, and I thought you might need a hand in washing it." She comes to a stop at the edge of the large tub, looking at Brigitte far more openly than she did before. 

"Oh. U-uh, my hair?" Brigitte straightens. The countess' gaze is very intense as it roams her body. There's heat coming from it. "I could not ask you to do such a thing! It is no problem, really, I did it before." She wants to punch herself for stumbling over her words. Of course she did it before!

"It would be my *pleasure*" The countess lifts her nightgown up to step over the tub's barrier.

Brigitte quickly looks away. "Countess, you really should not..."

The countess lets her gown drop again, letting the thin cotton cloth soak up the water as she squats in front of Brigitte. "It will not do for you to have anything but the best for your beautiful hair, Brigitte."

That is the first time the countess used her name. Brigitte's breath catches as she looks up. The countess' eyes are a staggering red. Something about that tickles the back of her mind, but other details draw her attention. A wet tongue darting out to lick over full lips, a pale shoulder revealed by the slipping nightgown.

Brigitte's breath catches in her throat. She feels light-headed, her pulse is racing. It's like a coil has been wound up inside her, or a fire that has been lit, or the battle lust she has felt in the heat of combat. Something is definitely wrong. And why is the countess moving towards her like this?

She watches as the countess raises her hand towards her. She wants to say something, ask the countess what is going on, what she is feeling. Years of battle training have not left her with much insight on the intricacies of social life, least of all among nobility. Is this a a bonding exercise? Is this how hair washing is done socially? Why does the sight of the countess' skin makes her want to grasp for it, tear at her clothes, and...

And what?

She can't even move, can only watch, feel as the countess gently runs the back of her hand down her face. Soft hands, gentle strokes, up and down, up and down.

Brigitte tells her body to move, but for all her strength, it's like that simple touch has burned her strength, poisoned her. She wants the countess to keep going. With what, she does not know. 

"Brigitte, are you afraid?"

The countess' voice is different now. It is darker, smoother, and it burrows into Brigitte like a barbed arrowhead. It reverbs through her body, makes her bones ring, turns her thoughts to mush. 

The hand stroking her face moves down, follows her jaw, strokes her chin. Carefully, and ever so slowly, the countess lets it glide down her neck, fingers ghosting over Brigitte's pulse point. Finally, it comes to rest over her breast, and the countess gently pushes her backwards.

The sudden sensation of falling causes Brigitte to reflexively stabilize herself with both arms, leaving her bare now. With a gasp, she looks up once more, straight into the Countess' eyes. 

"Good girl."

She feels the blood rush to her face, the feeling of bareness, of being stripped of her armor, but a part of her enjoys it. Wants to explore this, wants to see wherever the countess is taking her. Wants to know what is burning in her, wants to extinguish it... or feed it instead.

Brigitte is shivering when the countess leans in, when she those crimson lips barely brush the corner of her own. Is this done, is this normal for aristocrats? Do they kiss, even among women? Is this more than friendly touching? What even is more than friendly touching among women?

"Relax, Brigitte. I promise I will not hurt you," the countess whispers in her ear. She kisses her cheeks softly, just a fleeting contact. A second kiss, lingering. A third, lingering longer, lips parted now, and all the while Brigitte is still frozen in place, just shivering under the ministrations she receives.

The countess chuckles in her ear, a dark, tempting sound. "You should not deny yourself. I feel your desire." Fingers splayed, she cups Brigitte's chin, tilts it upwards. "You want this, just as I want you." She sinks on her knees, trapping Brigitte's legs between hers, heedless of the water still drenching her gown. "You have never been touched, knight, so your body yearns. I can slake its thirst, if you allow me."

Brigitte can turn her face, could turn it away, but like a moth, she turns towards the flame instead.

Purely by instinct, she leans upwards. Her arm shivers as she dares to grab the countess' clothed shoulder.

The countess looks over at Brigitte's hand on her shoulder. Her smile widens. 

She leans in again, her kisses soft on Brigitte's cheek. Then, her jaw. As Brigitte gasps once more, her grip strengthening, the countess pauses, her lips just a hand's breath away. 

Brigitte realizes the invitation. She feels the countess' breath on hers, steady and only slightly faster, and she throws all caution to the wind. She closes the distance between them.

The contact is unlike anything she ever experienced. She heard of kisses. Talked about them with other girls when she was young, maybe even imagined them, after hearing a fittingly romantic story told from one of the other warriors. 

The countess' kiss is warm and gentle, a soft pressure that seems to drive roots through her body. There's a taste to it, and to Brigitte, it's like tasting ambrosia. Most of all, it's the warmth spreading through her, pooling in her belly, and the sudden urge to be closer, *closer* to the woman in front of her is overwhelming. She mewls as the countess gently moves against her, fingers threading through her hair in support, drawing her attention back and forth.

She leans upwards, and the countess' hands roam lower, over her naked back, before settling at her lower back and between her shoulder blades. The thin body of the countess somehow manages to hold her up easily, pulling her closer, until Brigitte almost fears they will become one.

It's intoxicating, the rush of pleasure she feels from the contact. She wants more. She leans into the kiss the countess is offering, and the countess replies by intensifying her movements. Her hands roam Brigitte's body, rubbing patterns on her skin, which she can barely register when nearly her entire being is consumed by the touch of lips.

The stories she heard never told her how it would feel. No one mentioned women being intimate with each other. She heard a rumor once, sure, but no one actually considered it as serious, but yet, as she experiences it, as she yearns to let this beautiful woman take control of her, show her all she has to offer, she wondered why she never experienced this before.

There's a soft pressure on her lips, and the countess retreats for a moment.

"Open your mouth", she says. 

Without thinking, Brigitte opens her mouth as wide as she can, drawing a chuckle from the countess. 

"No, not like this, silly."

The countess tells her. Then, she shows her.

The taste is... different. When their tongues touch first, when the countess intrudes, Brigitte wants to retreat. But the movement persists, the caress now inside her. It is intoxicating in an entirely different way, and it adds just more fuel to the flame of feelings Brigitte is not ready to name yet. It's not a dance, her own tongue is too clumsy for that, but the countess knows what she is doing. And again, she wants more. 

She enjoys this. An hour ago, she did not ever consider any of what she is wanting now, and she wants it more than anything in the world. Duty, modesty, restraint, all sacrificed to the raging flames of debauchery. She scoffed at the notion in front of the chaplan of the Order. Now she knows how easy it is to fall.

Now she is here, moving like this, like a woman drowning. They are moving against each other, clashing, pulling apart, only to come together again in a flurry of lips, and tongues, and hands. And Brigitte's own hands are twitching, holding on to the countess like a lifeline in this storm. Her body is at its limit.

The countess' hand gently brushes across her chest, and Brigitte makes an especially undignified sound. 

That puts an end to it. They are both left panting, staring, lips swollen and glistening.

Only now, Brigitte realizes that they sit in near darkness, the candles having burned down to next to nothing. She did not even realize any time has passed.

She looks down, at the hand that touched her breast. A new excitement. 

When she looks up to the countess, pleading, the woman just smiles.

"Not yet, my Brigitte. A dance must be learned carefully, step by step."

She straightens in the bathtub, but hesitates. Then she leans down once more for one last tender, lasting kiss. Brigitte clings to the taste, tries to burn it into her memory, so it does not turn out this was all a dream.

"Rest now. Tomorrow..."

She leaves the sentence dangling, a barbed hook. Standing up, her now translucent night gown gives Brigitte's imagination the bait. 

Like a ghost, she is gone from the room before Brigitte can reply.


End file.
